"Papa!"

He doesn't hear his son's call; he's too into the world of his video game to register much outside of the virtual world he's in.

"Papa?" Jordan calls again.

And again, Arastoo doesn't reply.

"Papa."

It isn't until his son is lying across his lap, flashing a hurt and confused look up at him, that Arastoo finally pauses his game, pulls off his headphones, and sets down the controller. "Hey, buddy. What's wrong?" He cups Jordan's face as the boy sits up and cuddles close to him. "Hm? What's wrong? Talk to me."

Jordan was the quieter of their three boys. A sensitive soul who had very big feelings and had a hard time expressing them at times. "Zaya is being mean to me! He said Santa wasn't real!" Jordan says, tears filling his eyes.

"He said what?" Arastoo asks, shocked and surprised.

"He said Santa wasn't real and wasn't going to come for Christmas this year! But that's not true, right? He's real and he's gonna come here, right?"

Arastoo hugs his son close as he tries to come up with a logical answer. Christmas wasn't his thing. Sure he loved the holly and jolly of it all, but the stories and the magic? He was way out of his league. He and Cam hadn't fully discussed what they were going to do with their boys when it came to the holiday. They had only been a family for nine months and were still settling into things. It just slipped through the cracks. And considering Cam was out Christmas shopping at the moment, he was going to have to man up and handle it on his own.

"Right, Papa? Santa's gonna come?" Jordan asks, looking up at his dad with a face that turned him from a nine-year-old fourth-grader to a three-year-old toddler.

After another hug, Arastoo sits his son up and off the couch. "I need to talk to your brother first. Go tell him to come here and then wait for me in mine and Mama's room, okay?"

"Okay." Jordan doesn't fight his dad on the direction, or the lack of an answer to his question, and heads back upstairs and does as he's told.

Isaiah's footsteps thunder down the stairs and he plops down into the armchair across from his dad with a huff. It's clear the teenager thinks he's in trouble and he's not happy about it at all. "So. How long am I being grounded for?" He asks as if stealing the words from Arastoo's mouth.

"You're not being punished. Why would you think that?" Arastoo asks, leaning forward, his hands clasping in his lap.

"Because Jordan tattled on me for being mean and that usually means I'm gonna get in trouble," Isaiah says matter-of-factly.

"You're not in trouble. But you do need to be nicer to your brother." After a pause to let the small reprimand sink in, Arastoo continues with the real reason why he'd called the eighth-grader down. "Why would you say that to him? You know how he is. He still believes in magic and Christmas and all the stories. He wasn't ready to know the truth."

"He's nine-years-old! He's three years older than me when I found out! He's not a baby anymore. He needs to grow up!"

"Why? Because that's what you and Tyler went through? Because you still feel like this home with Mama and I isn't permanent? That we're just gonna send you guys back at any second? So that automatically means your baby brother suddenly needs to be grown?"

Isaiah stays quiet for a long moment. Was he that easy to read? All the fears he'd had since been taken home with Cam and Arastoo - of not getting officially adopted, of being sent back into the system - were just put into words by the very man who finally gave him a real family. He and Tyler had had to grow up very quickly and lost all of their belief in magic. But they'd tried to keep it alive for Jordan; he didn't need to be grown. So why now?

"Because I feel like Jordan is spoiled for getting all the things me and Tyler missed out on. I'm jealous," Isaiah confesses.

"You're right to feel jealous. You and Tyler had to deal with things Jordan was too little to understand. You had your childhood taken away by horrible people who had no right doing it. But why does that mean Jordan has to have his taken away too? Don't you want him to believe in magic and all the good things in the world? All the adventures and make-believe you and Tyler lost out on?"

"I do," Isaiah says. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are. And I think Jordan does too. He's really hurt, though."

"Yeah. I figured. I regretted saying it right after. It was mean."

"Go apologize to him and tell him I'm coming right up, okay?" Arastoo says.

"I will," Isaiah replies, standing and going to smooth things out with his brother.

Arastoo sighs and pulls out his phone and texts his wife; she would know what to do.

Isaiah told Jordan The Secret Of Santa. What do I do?

He watches as the three dots come up to show she's typing and a few minutes go by before her replies chimes on his phone. He reads it over three times, trying to understand and memorize the story she'd sent him. Strangely, it was very magical and child-appropriate, and Arastoo has to use a lot of will power not to reply and ask if Michelle had helped her mom come up with it.

It's the story my Grandmother told me when I found out. Is Cam's explanation before he even asks it.

Arastoo pockets his phone and heads upstairs and into his bedroom where Jordan is lounging on the bed doodling with the pad and pen from his bedside table.

"Okay, bud: we need to talk," Arastoo says, taking the pen and paper away and sitting down next to Jordan, hugging him close.

"Santa's not real," Jordan whispers, sadly.

"No, he's not. You're right," Arastoo confirms. "But what does Santa do?"

"He brings presents to every kid on Christmas," Jordan replies.

"And how does he make you feel?"

"Happy. And warm and safe and like everything is magical. Like, how does he do that? Get to all the houses in one night? It has to be magic!"

Arastoo chuckles at his son's honesty and wonder about the fictional character. "He brings you happiness. You know what this means, don't you?" When Jordan shakes his head, Arastoo smiles. "It means that you are now ready to become a Santa."

"Me? A Santa?"

"Uh-huh," Arastoo hums. "You're old enough to take on the responsibility, like a lot of other kids, and those guys in the mall who dress up as Santa, to spread the magic of Santa to all the people you meet. To make them feel as happy and magical as Santa made you feel. It's your job to do that until another kid you love is ready to become a Santa themselves."

"Really? I get to do that!"

"You do," Arastoo nods. "It's a big responsibility. But Mama and I think you're ready for it."

"This is awesome!"

"But it's a secret. You can't tell anyone. Not the kids at school or your friends. You have to keep the secret and protect the magic, okay?"

"Okay," Jordan nods, ready to take on the job of being an official Santa.

"That's my boy," Arastoo says, smiling and hugging his son.

Jordan Saroyan-Vaziri fulfilled his duties as a Santa for many years. Spreading Christmas joy and magic to all of his friends and family. And when they were ready, bestowed the job onto each of his younger cousins, starting with Michael Hodgins the following year.